Category: Thought for the Day

One of my fundamental convictions is that life goes much better for us in the long run if we tell the truth. Don’t try to gild the lily. Don’t make promises (about the spiritual life, for instance) which aren’t going to be fulfilled. Be a real human being with others, not a fake superhero.

What stops us doing that? I would suggest two things: having something to cover up, and having nothing to cover up.

The first is obvious, of course: if I’ve got a skeleton in my closet, I don’t want you to know about it. If I’m in a relationship with you and there’s a big, dirty secret about my life, my fear is going to be that if you find out about it, you’ll end the relationship. So I’m going to do all I can to keep that secret in the dark. In other words, the root of my lie is my fear of being rejected.

But what does the second thing mean: ‘having nothing to cover up’? I mean that we’re trying to cover up ‘nothing’. Or at least, we think it’s ‘nothing’. I don’t see myself as a particularly impressive person – not especially smart, or particularly good looking, or unusually clever in any obvious way. I think I’ve got ‘nothing’ to offer, and I want to cover up that fact (at least, in my own mind it’s a fact). So I’m going to play a role, pretending to ‘have it all together’, in an effort to pull the wool over your eyes and make a good impression on you.

I think the second factor may be far more powerful – and far more common – than the first. And at its root, it’s about fear too – the fear of being tried and found wanting. The fear of being discovered to be the fraud we believe ourselves to be, deep down inside.

I think in some people these factors may lessen with age. I’d like to think they are lessening with me. I don’t have that many people left in my life I need to impress. I think that pretty well all the people I want to love me, already love me, and have proved over and over again that they’re pretty stubborn about loving me. So there’s not a great amount to gain for me in lying. As I get older, it’s harder for me to keep track of my own lies, anyway; it’s far easier just to tell the truth!

But it’s not that way for everyone. The current occupant of the White House, for example, seems to have an enormous need to fake his own impressiveness every hour of every day. Sometimes (often) I think the only reason he’s in politics is to shore up his own desperately fragile self-esteem.

The problem with getting people to love a fake identity, of course, is that you then have to sustain that fake identity. And that takes a lot of psychological energy – especially if, like some people, you have a number of fake identities, depending on the company you keep.

I believe it’s much better – and in the long run it may even be much easier – just to be real. Jesus said “And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32, New Living Translation). Seeing the world as it is, and accepting that reality and living accordingly – that is a liberating thing. And who is the one who truly knows the world ‘as it is’? Surely the one who made it has the best view!

That includes seeing myself as I am, knowing that God sees that reality and loves me anyway, and being willing to be that person in the sight of others as well. This is me, warts and all, fears and hopes, successes and failures, loves and hates. God loves me despite all that, and God calls me to love the other imperfect human beings in my life, too, and to let them love me. And if we can do that, I believe that in the end life will be a lot better for us.

In one of the final chapters of his book ‘Sapiens‘, Yuval Noah Harari raises the issue of whether all the ‘progress’ the human race has made in the last few thousand years has actually increased the happiness of individual humans to any great degree (not to mention the happiness of the other sentient species on Earth).

I won’t give the game away by telling you his answer, but I would like to share a short reflection on one section of this chapter. In this section, Harari points out that happiness has a lot to do with body chemistry and temperament. Some of us just seem wired to be more cheerful than others. For example, one person might have a ‘happiness range’ (on a scale of 1-10) of 3-7, averaging out at a five. Another might have a range of 6-10, averaging out at an eight. There isn’t a great deal they can do about that, although of course upbringing and choices do have some impact on where we land up in the range.

I found this liberating.

I am well aware that I have been handed a somewhat melancholic temperament. It’s easy for me to see the dark side of any issue. I panic easily, I worry a lot, and I tend to make negative observations about situations and people.

Looking at my families of origin, I can understand this. It’s in our genes. It’s not something I need to feel guilty about.

However, I do have a choice about where in my ‘range’ (let’s call it a 3 – 7) I average out. And there are things I can do, choices I can make, habits I can form, that will increase my happiness. Gretchen Rubin wrote an excellent book on this subject called ‘The Happiness Project‘. No, I can’t flip a switch to change my emotions. But there are behaviours I can engage in which have a cheering effect on my disposition. I’m talking about things like doing acts of kindness to others, sticking with my diet and exercise disciplines and so on. I know that when I’m intentional about these things, I’m a happier guy.

And I’m also more pleasant to be around. Which is why making decisions that increase my happiness is not a selfish pursuit. Generally speaking, happier people lift up the people around them, while gloomy people drag others down. I want to lift others up.

I can’t do anything about my temperament, but I can do something about my actions. I’m going to try to remember to do that.

This morning I thought about this poem by Steve Turner; it appears in his collection ‘Up to Date‘, published in 1983 and now long out of print. Somehow, it seems sadly relevant.

All You Need is Hate

Alan hated soldiers, and teachers
and politicians, policemen, and bankers.
Alan was full of hate for such people.
Poured his hate into poems.
Threw the poems at audiences
who sat bleeding in their seats,
words hanging from holes in their skin.
Hate them, he shouted, boot stomping
the boards.
Hate them. Hate them.
Alan, I said. Alan.
Hate hate, Alan, I said. Hate
hate.
It’s the only hate worth having, Alan
and it comes by another name.

Jesus tells us the the two greatest commandments are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbour as ourselves. We modern Christians often get confused about what this means, because to us, ‘love’ primarily describes a feeling. But in the Bible, love is not a feeling.

Yes, of course, there is a feeling that we call ‘love’, but the most important kind of love is not a feeling but a decision, an action. To pick up your tool belt and help build a Habitat for Humanity house is love. To give money to World Vision is love. To spend time with an emotionally needy friend when you’d rather be doing anything else is love. To tell someone the truth when you suspect they’re going to throw it back in your face is love. To take your spouse a cup of coffee in bed is love. To choose to stay with the person you promised you would stay with rather than the new young thing you feel attracted to is love. To give up some of your dreams so that you can be there for your kids is love. To forgive your enemies whether you feel like it or not, because Jesus told you to do so, is love.

And so the list goes on. These are not things that we do because we love someone. These actions are loving someone. Love is action.

This morning in my devotions I read Psalm 46 and came across these words:

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble in its tumult (Psalm 46:2-3).

I don’t know what potentially cataclysmic military or political event the writer of Psalm 46 was referring to here, but I’m betting that it wasn’t an earthquake so severe that it caused the mountains to collapse into the heart of the sea. Maybe it was a foreign invasion that threatened Jerusalem; maybe it was the death of a righteous king and his replacement by his useless son. Whatever it was, the writer saw it as what we would call today an ‘earth-shaking’ event (although the earth is not literally shaken).

Some people (of a particular political stripe) would see the election of the NDP as the Government of Alberta, or the Liberals as the Government of Canada, as such an event. Many people would see the potential nomination of Donald Trump as the Republican candidate for President of the United States – and even more, his election to that high office – as such an event. In ancient time, the sack of Rome by the Visigoths in 410 A.D. was seen in those terms – causing St. Augustine to write his famous book ‘The City of God’ – and so was the Fall of Jerusalem to Roman armies in A.D. 66-70.

The point the writer is making – the point the writer is praying to God in this psalm – is that though elections go badly (as we would say today), though kings and governments fall, though society goes to hell in a hand basket, it’s still true that ‘God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…’ (vv.1-2a).

What is our true fortress? Is it the walls of Jerusalem (built on a mountain that might crumble one day)? Is it our military might or political systems? Is it the election of a government we approve of? Is it our financial security or our excellent health-care system? No – when push comes to shove, none of these can guarantee our safety. Our cities may fall, our governments may do asinine things, and one day (violently or peacefully) all of us will die. And so we cry out with the psalmist,

The LORD of hosts is with us,
the God of Jacob is our refuge (v.7, v,.11).

Lord of hosts, help us today to ‘Be still, and know that you are God’ (v.10). We know that the more we wait on you and seek your face, the more we will be reassured in the face of disaster. So help us to put our trust in you today, and know that you alone are God. Amen.

Tim Chesterton

Disclaimer

Please note that opinions expressed on this blog are entirely my own and do not necessarily represent the official view(s) of my parish, my bishop, my diocese, the Anglican Church of Canada, the folk music community of Edmonton, or any other organisation or community with which I am associated. Indeed, it is highly likely that they will not, since I appear to have been born with the maverick temperament!

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